


Hello, My Wolf

by JadeFlicker



Category: Doctor Who, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, BAMF Stiles, Crossover, Doctor Who AU, F/M, M/M, Sterek Week 2016, Time Travel, doctor who - Freeform, prompt 1, scene stealer, sterekscenestealer2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeFlicker/pseuds/JadeFlicker
Summary: When a lonely alien crashed into the Earth one night in front of a small Earth child, the alien wasn’t a Time Lord, the child wasn’t Amy Pond, and the Alpha was pissed as hell about the damage to his time-space traveling ship that was stuck in the shape of a Camaro. Which, to be fair, could be worse. It could be a giant, blue, eye-catching box. Or a JEEP.Everything else just seems to roll from there.(In which the TARDIS is a Camaro, werewolves replaced Time Lords, and Stiles is clearly BAMF enough to be River Song.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> My tribute to Day #1 of Sterek Week 2016.

It starts with a boy.

Oh, it always starts with a boy. When doesn’t it start with a boy, really?

The question for this story is which one does it start with?

Does this story begin with the laughing little boy, half shifted under a purple sky and two moons as he chases his sisters and is chased in turn? All under the watchful red eyes of his mother, of course.

Or does it start with the grieving boy in the form of a harsh, stern man? One that travels the stars and around moons and never, ever stops running.

Perhaps it starts with the little boy with the crooked jaw waiting in the woods, far away from his house and the sounds of yelling and broken things? He sits on a dead tree trunk with a bag clutched in his hand, and waits for a black Camaro to whisk him away from this place.

Or maybe, just maybe, this really begins with the frightened little boy who was locked in a room and surrounded by cold teachers. Teachers that would teach him how to shoot, how to fight, harshly reprimand him when his brain jumped onto other subjects, and succeeded in initially instilling their objective his malleable young mind.

But as another time traveler in another universe, another dimension, once said: “Time isn’t linear as much as it is a big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.” So perhaps there isn’t a single start at all.

But that means there really isn’t a single end either.

* * *

 

“Britt D, come on man, this is your third detention this _month_!” Scott groaned, flopping on his bed and trying to drown himself in his own sheets. “Harris is an asshole, but why do you always have to poke the sleeping bear?”

“I do not,” the teenage girl protested, but was grinning slyly as she flopped into the desk chair. Leaning back, she lazily spun round and round, long blonde hair draped over the back of the chair like a banner all wavy and twisted into itself.

Scott raised his head just enough to give his best friend for life a very pointed bitch face. “ _Yes! Yes, you do!_ I distinctly remember us sneaking into Bear Point at the zoo in the 8th grade. I _also_ remember you literally poking Kimo the black bear with a stick!”

Stopping the chair, she rocked back and forth and teased, “Then maybe your time-traveling Alpha should have stopped us. At least then you’d never would have had to spend the rest of the trip and ride home butt naked.”

Her crooked jaw friend’s brows immediately furrowed so quickly she was surprised there wasn’t a click, “No. Nooo way! That’s not how it works.” The smirking girl just barely heard him mutter as he pressed his pillow into his face, “And no way am I going to tell the Alpha I need him to go back in time to stop a bear from stealing my pants and underwear. No no _no_.” This immediately caused her to break into delighted snickers.

“Scottie’s milkshake brings all the ladies to the yard,” she sang. “Whether they be badass Olympic-archery ladies or bear ladies. They _aaaallll_ wanna piece of _this_ handsome ass!”

“Oh my god, I hate you!” Scott groaned, removing the pillow enough to scowl petulantly at her. And while it might be a bit rude, he couldn’t bring himself to think of his friend as anything besides Britt D, the girl who definitely was ‘not a lady, Scottie, don’t have the manners for it’. “Why are we even friends?”

“Don’t lie Scotty,” Britt D grinned, spinning back around and booting up Scott’s laptop. She casually tapped in Scott’s new password for both windows and Netflix before starting to look through for something to watch. “It would take a lot more than that to get you to hate me.”

There was something about the tone that made Scott raise his head, his head tilted in concern. “Britt D, you know I was kidding right? I would never hate you.”

His best friend turned halfway back to smile at him. But while it was familiar and warm and soothing, there was still something he didn’t recognize in the shadow of her blue eyes and the edge of her smile. “Glad to hear that, Scottie.”

* * *

 

If you are a storyteller, then the stories of time-travelers are the most exciting and the most frustrating projects you will ever attempt. In one universe, it’s the Doctor. Always the Doctor.

Except in a small set of universes where it _is not_ the Doctor. In these universes and dimensions, the dice fell a different way. One experiment gone wrong instead of right wiped out the Time Lords before the Doctor was even a thought in the consciousness of the universe. Another quirk of fate caused the Lucanians to inherit what was left of their technology.

So when a lonely alien crashed into the Earth one night in front of a small Earth child, the alien wasn’t a Time Lord, the child wasn’t Amy Pond, and the Alpha was pissed as hell about the damage to his time-space ship that was stuck in the shape of a Camaro. Which, to fair, could be worse. It could be a giant, blue, eye-catching box. Or a JEEP.

* * *

 

“Stop! STOP!”

Scott slammed on the brakes just as the old, barely working car they had picked up from a junkyard (and therefore could easily abandon) broke out of the corn-line and into the clearing that made the circular part of the ‘a’ they made. But unlike when they first made the letter, there was now a Black Camaro sitting in the previously empty space. A Black Camaro and a familiar, scowling man.

As he and his wife climbed out of the car, the Alpha raised a yellowed newspaper titled in large bold letters “COMPREHENSIVE CROP CIRCLES! ALIENS OR GOVERNMENT PLOT!” for them to see.

“Really?” he deadpanned incredulously.

“Well, you never answer your phone,” Scott scowled back.

“You’ve had all summer,” Allison marched up to the larger man. “Did you find him yet? Did you find Dylan?”

There was a pause, the Alpha looked down at his feet and Scott’s heart sank. Raising his head to nod at Scott and casually toss him the newspaper, he walked forward purposely to meet Allison. Meeting her half way, he stood in front of her with all the conviction of a martyr and determination of the sinned. “You know who he grows up to be. So you know I will find him.”

“But you haven’t yet,” Allison concluded, harsh and angry with a gloss of tears over her eyes.

But for once, Scott didn’t notice. After traveling with the Alpha, he learned that the little, alarming things—those confidential details—were often the preset to something much larger and dangerous. They tended to be things worth paying attention to. And right now, his attention had been caught by the picture that had been pasted across the front page. The ‘Alpha’ they’d written across the cornfield was prominent. However, there was an almost deliberate line coming from somewhere beyond the ‘A’, running right through their crop creation, and seemingly ended within the clearing made with in the last ‘a’. Where they were.

“Hey guys?” He called out without looking away from the newspaper. “Do you know where this bit came from? Do we do this when we leave or something?”

Distracted, his wife and the Alpha move over to look, both looking at it with furrowed brows.

“It can’t be,” Allison shook her head. “We were planning to leave in the Camaro.”

“Then who the hell makes this,” the Alpha growled with the audible lack of punctuation as per usual.

As if to answer his question, all their heads shot up at the sound of a roaring rattle echoing over the field with an undercurrent of crackling cornstalks. In a few seconds, an old, blue Jeep bursts out from the corn stalks to their screams and bumps their burner car aside from the sheer reckless speed it was going at. Allison and Scott immediately dived off to the side. The Alpha braced himself to stop the car. He wasn’t prepared for the car to swerve around and tail end him 10 feet into the air and across the clearing. He was even less prepared for the young woman that cheerfully hopped out of the driver’s seat and stopped in front of him as he climbed back onto his feet with a snarl.

“Dude! You said he was weird and creepy!” the stranger with blue eyes casually tossed at Scott (thank god it was blue; the Alpha didn’t know if he could deal with another pretty blonde with wavy hair, brown eyes, and a deceptive smile). “You never said he was _hot_ like burning.”

“Britt D!” Allison exclaimed scoldingly, already marching with tense lines of concern and reprimand clear in her stance.

“Britt D, what are you doing here?!” Scott yelped, pure concern and confusion coloring his expression.

Spinning away from the Alpha and spreading her arms out towards her friends, she just smiled at them, “Obviously following you, of course! What’d you think I was doing?”

“Uuuh,” Scott hedged while studying the unfamiliar Jeep. “Where did you get the car?”

“It’s mine,” she shrugged, the words coming out a bit too casually, a bit too smoothly. Suddenly, the sound of multiple police sirens echoed the field much like the Jeep had before. And they were only getting louder. Allison had already put her face in her hands with a muttered ‘not again’. “Okay, it _may_ have belonged to the Sheriff’s wife? Maybe? Probably? Well, she wasn’t using it and it’s such a shame Roscoe doesn’t get to go out more!”

“She named it already,” Allison muttered faintly, sounding exhausted and resigned.

“Britt D, you can’t keep doing this!” Scott insisted worriedly, always the moral compass, especially as the sirens grew louder. “Next time, it’s not going to be a cell overnight. You’re actually going to end up in jail!”

“ _Stop_ ,” the Alpha growled, clearly fed up. “What the hell is going on?”

But clearly nobody was going to give him answers.

“Is this the Camaro?!” the young woman gushed, her attention already diverted. Striding over it, she drew her fingers across the exterior like a lover. “The one that has its own pocket dimensions that you can stay in and store things? Get in, will a certain space, and open the door to your personal room? Oh wow, this is so much hotter in person. Compensating, yeah, but this is definitely a babe magnet. But geez, _time travel_ ,” she spun back around and gazed at a tense Alpha from under her eyelashes. “As if the rest of you wasn’t hot enough.”

The Alpha, who had been stalking towards the stranger _pawing_ at his ship, paused before spinning around towards the couple who had been traveling with him for a while.

“You told her?!” he demanded accusingly.

“Well yeah, I’m their best friend,” the blue-eyed stranger drew his attention back to heard. Meeting his scowl with a challenging smile, she crossed her arms. “And I’ve heard all about you.”

“Then why don’t I know you?” the Alpha snapped back. “I met everyone at their wedding, and you definitely weren’t there.”

“Are you saying I’m _noticeable_?” Britt D smiled. “Well, technically, I was Scottie’s Best Wo-Man, but Isaac had to fill in when I ended up being arrested. Reckless driving and endangerment to the public.”

“I wonder why,” the Alpha deadpanned dryly.

“Oooo sarcasm will get you anywhere, McStubbly," she teased. “But hey, it was for a good cause! God forbid what Allison would have done to us if Scott had showed up _late_. Or geez, what would Allison’s _mother_ have done to us?”

“BRITT D!” Scott yelped.

“You were late,” Allison huffed, “To our _wedding?_ ”

“Oops. There goes my mouth again. Well, to be fair, he wasn’t actually late thanks to me. Okay, maaaybe by 30 seconds, but who’s counting right?” the blond sing-songed. They all looked around as the police sirens suddenly seemed to get especially loud. Britt D especially seemed to get tenser as she moved away from the Camaro, looking around and locating the direction of the noise. Sighing, her tone suddenly dipped into something much darker and much more serious, “And that’s me, out of time.” Turning around, she suddenly had a handgun pointed at the Alpha’s head. “These bullets are coated in wolfsbane. Got the idea from Scottie and the stories he told when he was younger, and I thought, why not? Aconite is just as poisonous to humans. And a graze to get it into the bloodstream is enough to deal with most people and things that live on this planet; so look at that, multi-functional. I wouldn’t suggest trying to dodge. I’m a _really_ good shot.”

“Britt!” Scott yelped, shock and confusion at the sudden turn of events clear on his face.

“What are you doing?!” Allison yelled, already moving forward, but freezing when the click of the safety being removed seem to echo in the tense atmosphere.

Tilting her head in their direction, but not taking her eyes off the Alpha, she pressed, “I need to get away from here. Now.”

“And where do you think you’re going?” the scowling man gritted out.

“Well let’s see,” the girl smirked. “I have a gun. You have a time-machine. What the hell. Let’s do some people a favor and kill Hitler.”

* * *

 

In this universe, it was the Lucanian race that happened to inherit pieces and bits of the Time Lords’ debris, relics, and salvage. A people that closely resembled the werewolf creatures in Earth’s stories, they were a race proud in their physicality, tradition, and almost always seamless connection with their more bestial side.

Exposure to the works of the Time Lords’ caused their civilizations to advance in leaps and bounds while their own power drove their progress. They progressed and evolved quickly and eventually they became a galactic power themselves, filling in the vacuum of power that is hosted by the aforementioned Time Lords in other universes.

But all power leads to unwanted attention. Power and growth and ambition lead to fear. And there is always someone stronger, faster, smarter, fiercer, or more dangerous. There is always some enemy force with more power, more numbers, better weapons. The Lucanians’s civilization advanced quicker than it naturally would have thanks to the remains of the Time Lords. But it was also thanks to the remains of the Time Lords that their destruction came on a lot sooner.

* * *

 

“Britt D?” Scott inquired, concerned and already frazzled about his wife calmly stuffing  _Hilter_ into the cupboard as he checked over the other stranger in the room. Who seemed to now have chosen to faint. His eyes suddenly flew widened. “Holy shit—BRITT!”

The Alpha spun around, his heart pounding when he spotted Scott’s friend bent forward. Her hand was pressed to her side and her face was getting paler.

“Hitler’s a lousy shot,” she announced before falling to her knees. With various growls and panicked shouts, they rushed over as she collapsed back against a broken couch.

“How bad is it?” Allison asked the other two men, tightly controlled, stroking long, blonde hair. “What can we do?”

“We need to keep her conscious,” Scott ordered, a sheer and desperate panic edging his otherwise calm voice. Because this was so bad. So, so bad. He was a vet with a good deal of knowledge and experience (thanks to their travels) on how to heal people and the son of a nurse with a childhood in the hospital. And all logical parts of his brain was saying that his best friend, the one he could always depend on besides Allison (Britt D predated Allison) was going to bleed out in a few minutes. The rest of him screamed utter denial.

“Hey. Hey!” the Alpha growled demandingly, hurriedly, catching the girl’s eyes and holding it within his own. “Look at me. You’ll be fine. If worse comes to worse, I need your permission to turn you. Very few individuals are able to be turned, but humans have always been especially adaptable and it can still fail. But I don’t think it will for you. You’re _infuriating_ , and the infuriating never die.”

“Hah,” Britt D breathed a laugh while panting. “I don’t think so. But keep complimenting me and I’ll think you actually like me, Sourwolf.” As she suddenly gasped, groaned, and writhe in pain, she didn’t seem to notice her friends' flinch or the Alpha stiffening. Neither did she notice the Alpha’s glare at Scott, or Scott’s guilty shrug as he silently admitted to having told her the nickname; a nickname previously known only to the McCall couple and the Alpha’s sometimes lover. When the bout of pain passed, she breathed another laugh, “I use to…dream about you, you know…All of Scottie’s stories…that he would tell me…use to dream I’d marry you.”

“I’m not the kind of person most people want to get married to,” the Alpha swallowed, his voice soft. Scott scowled at him, doing a jerking nod even as he worked to stem the bleeding. But the Alpha could see that it wasn’t stopping.

She smirked tiredly, “I’m not most people, and hey! I’m on the same boat. Most people don’t want to marry me either.”

“And that is as good of a reason to get married as any, huh?” the Alpha asked, dry with a trace of warm humor that he really shouldn’t be feeling in this situation. Scott’s friend was absolutely infuriating.

Something tugged at the back of the Alpha’s mind.

“You should probably ask my parents though,” the blonde girl huffed. “My mom is pretty badass and dangerous when she gets protective and angry.”

“Then I should probably sign my death warrant,” the man smirked. “I’m not exactly the kind of guy you bring home to your parents. There’s a good chance they won’t like or approve of me being an even worse influence on you.”

“Well they seem to like you well enough. They travel enough with you all the time, so I think they’d have to,” she gave them a crooked smile. “And they’re right here, so you might as well ask now and then _you_ can tell _me_ if they like you or not.”

Scott, Allison, and the Alpha froze, slowing exchanging wide-eyed looks before their gaze darted back to the girl lying between them. The Alpha suddenly stood and backed away just as Britt D’s skin started to glow, golden wisps floating in clouds off her skin.

“It can’t be…,” the Alpha muttered, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What’s going on?!” Scott demanded, grasping frantically at his friend. “What’s happening to her?”

“Get back! BACk!” was the frantic response, grabbing at the couple and forcefully yanking them back with him.

Surprised at the rare show of panic, Allison and Scott let him as the clouds grew thicker and the glow became stronger. A hum, strange and unworldly, started to fill the room; growing louder and louder in its dissonance. They watched in confusion and fascination as Britt D (their friend, their stranger) stood up, studying her own glowing body and the clouds of gold wafting from it with fascination.

“The last time I did this…,” she murmured. “I ended up a toddler in New York.”

“Alpha,” Allison demanded, her voice tight. “What’s happening?”

“Britt D,” the Alpha growled. “Short for?”

The girl squarely met the man’s eyes, her countenance serious and so unlike the mouthy, always laughing blonde he’d known for all of an hour. Giving him a flat smile, she replied, “Brittney Dylan.”

Allison’s eyes widened as the realization seemed to strike her, her mouth falling open and her eyes a mixture of conflicting emotions.

But Scott hadn’t yet made the connection yet, as his eyes darted between the three others and trying to figure it out, “Yeah, we agreed early on to name our kid after her. Dylan if it’s a boy. Victoria if it’s a girl.”

The Alpha exhaled steadily though his nose as he growled, “You named your child…after your child.”

Scott stared at the other man for a moment before it suddenly dawned on him, and nearly gave himself whiplash when he whipped around to look to her. His best friend. His partner-in-crime. His missing-stolen-son-daughter-son- _child_.

“It took me years to find you two,” she confessed. “And I’m so glad I did. See? This way, it all works out in the end. I got to see you and be with you, and you got to raise me.”

“You’re Dylan?” Allison choked out, a shocked tear running down her face and her control gone.

“But…if she’s Dylan…,” Scott drew out, reeling in shock.

“Shut UP, Dad,” Britt D gritted out between gritted teeth. “Need to get something good here!” And she screamed as the gold clouds and wisped explode from her like steam from an engine, the hum reaching an almost ear-splitting climax.

The Alpha whined as the noise pierced his eardrums and drove into his brain, even as the light blinded all of them. However, he didn’t have time to let it overwhelm him. He needed to take this opportunity when everyone was distracted…

And as gradually as it had appeared, it was suddenly gone. The screaming, the humming, and all the lights. And when they all turned back around from where they had ducked, were finally able to blink past the spots in their eyes, they saw that where once stood a girl they’d known all their life, there was now a very familiar, gasping boy with brown eyes and moles dotting all over his pale skin.

“Oh…ah…ah…,” he panted, then shook himself out like a dog ridding itself of water. “Oh wow. Okay. Glad I was wearing jeans today. Not to say that I wouldn’t totally rock it in a skirt even as a guy, but in this time and period, people would try to lynch me. But _geez_. And I thought these were tight before, but women’s jeans DO NOT account for sudden generations of a dick. Oh jeez.” Patting down his body, he seemed to be too self-absorbed into his examining his new body to noticed the shocked trio just frozen and watching her. “Oh wow, so decent sized down there. Okay muscle, but wow I’m skinny. Oooo, my butt is _nice_! I have it going on in the front _and_ the back. Teeeeethhh…eyup! Oh holy shit! My hair! I’m _shaved_?! I can’t be—actually. I can work with this. I think I’ll keep it for a while and try to grow it out later.” The other three were still watching with slack, dumbstruck expressions as he rushed to the nearest decorative mirror. “Ooh! Oh wow! Hah! Holy shit, I’m a _twink_! Twink with surprises~! EVERYTHING changes, huh? Scottie isn’t this just so cool?!” Without warning, he suddenly flung himself at the Alpha, who stumbled back against the desk under the other’s weight and his own shock. “What’dya Alpha? Still sexy like this, yeah?” the young man purrs. But then he suddenly wasn’t. “Actually, that reminds me….” Spinning back around, his eyes darted back and forth between the still-frozen Scott and Allison, “’xcuse me! I need to find a scale to weigh myself! _This is so fucking COOL!_ ”

And just like that, he blew out of the room, leaving the other three gaping after her. Wandering over to the still frozen Alpha stiffly, Scott and Allison leaned back heavily on the desk, still looking into that middling distance that meant they weren’t actually looking.

“That’s…,” Allison trailed along numbly, “…Dylan.”

Scott swallowed, “That’s Stiles Stilinski.”

“How is that possible?!” Allison hissed at the Alpha, finally turning to look at him. “Dylan’s _human_! But those gold clouds! That….whatever it was! What was that?!”

The Alpha paused, opening and closing his mouth a few times before the words spilled out of his mouth haltingly, “Dylan…was conceived on the Camaro _when_ the Camaro was leaking time energy. The result…was that time energy must have gotten infused with his DNA. Humans. Are compatible. That’s why in the future, humans spread across the universe, because you can conceive with nearly any species. The Camaro’s design, the whole…system and engine and regulators and energies harnessed…were originally designed by the Time Lords.”

“Didn’t the Time Lords go extinct?” Scott hissed back. “You said that’s how you guys got their tech in their first place.”

“They _were_ ,” the Alpha growled. “But now they aren’t, whatever the time energy did…that was regeneration. Time Lords can…”regenerate” twelve times. Mortal injury, age, sickness. Twelve lives. And each time, they come back as a new person. Different look, a similar but different personality, the works…The only thing I can think of is that somehow all the factors added up and made it so that Dylan was born as at least _part_ Time Lord. You guys…gave birth to the first Time Lord the universe has seen in a millennium.”

Scott blinked blankly as he slid down to sit on the ground, “And because of the regeneration thing, Dylan become Britt D and Britt D is now….”

“Stiles,” the Alpha nodded. “The result is Stiles.”

“What the hell is a Stiles?”

The three companions shot up and whipped around to look the boy that had suddenly reappeared. He looked at them curiously, waiting for them to answer.

“Spoilers?” Scott volunteered with a slightly hysterical note in his voice.

“Spoilers?” Stiles echoed, nose wrinkling in confusion. “What’s spoilers? Oh wait! Hang on! Need to check something,” he bounced back and forth before disappearing back into the hallway.

“Is anybody else getting a sort of banging in their head?” Scott reached, the hysteria becoming more and more evident.

“Yeah,” Allison agreed. “I think that’s Hitler in the cupboard.”

“That’s not helping,” Scott admitted, looking he was indeed prepared to pass out.

“Be on your guard,” the Alpha growled. “This isn’t the Stiles Stilinski we know yet. This is him at the beginning, before he even knows his own name.”

They all turned at the sound of glee echoing from the hallway, just in time to see the familiar-unfamiliar boy flail out of the hallway. He nearly fell on his face twice.

“Gotta get use to these limbs,” he laughed, grinning at the others in a familiar-unfamiliar smile. Both comforting with an edge. “But gods am I gonna have _fun_. I’m finally _taller_. Anyways,” And maybe he was flailing a few seconds before, but there was nothing clumsy about the quick draw and the gun he seemed to pull out of nowhere. “Down to business.”

“B-Britt D?” Scott asked, his voice wavering and still so, so confused. “Britt D, what are you doing?”

“What he’s programmed to,” the Alpha growled, his stance shifting into a half crouch. “To kill me.”

* * *

 

But the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Maybe in this universe, Scott and Allison aren’t an everlasting love that refused to be separated by even Weeping Angels. Because Allison Argent is a very different creature from Amy Pond, and losing her son was another crack in her relationship with Scott that they could not heal. In this universe, the couple that accompanies the time traveler doesn’t last.

But in this universe, there is still a bond between killer and killed that transcends literal time and space.

* * *

 

He didn’t understand why the Alpha was still trying so hard. Literally crawling on his hands and knees up the stairs and reaching desperately towards his Camaro even as his organs were failing. Even now, the assassin was ruthlessly smothering his own concern for his biological parents, choosing to focus on the target they had been born and raised to destroy.

This was what he was born to do. This was his purpose and his reason to exist. There was no time for frivolous emotions like the ones that led the Alpha to save him from whatever torture field he had been suspended in. The Silence worked very hard to train those kinds of things out of him. And after this, he would be free.

**“Alpha, hurry! Hurry! Please hurry!”**

But he felt a pang anyways. For his parents. For himself and the life he could have had with them. Not as a childhood friend, but as their actual child. For this wolf-man who wouldn’t give up or give in no matter how many tragedies he faced or how many burdens he bore. That even in his dying breath, his only concern was saving the assassin himself and his biological parents from the time-traveling robot.

**“Alpha, _PLEASE_!”**

“Look at you…,” he murmured, standing up from the chair he was straddling. Hesitantly, he moved closer, studying the writhing body. “You still care…even when you’re dying and in pain. Why?” No, that’s not right. He physically shook himself, trying to get rid of the sentiment and his ever-present curiosity. Clearing his throat, he straightened and admitted in a much harder tone, “Your tenacity is impressive, I’ll give you that.”

“Stiles…,” the Alpha grunted, displeased and probably completely disoriented. At this point, he had to be hallucinating. Begging for some mysterious figure from some point in that long life of his. “Please.”

It wasn’t begging exactly. It was too angry and too demanding to be begging. Nevertheless, it pissed off something in the assassin because how many times was this now?

“Again?!” he exclaimed, completely exasperated. “ _Who or what is a Stiles?!_ If it’s a person, it has to be someone pretty damn important, of all people you call for! Someone you apparently trust. But who in the universe would _you_ trust? You’re completely paranoid!”

“Help me…,” the Alpha just continued to growl determinedly, like he was talking to someone directly. But the one other person in the room was the assassin. “Help me save Scott and Allison…Help me.”

“Tell me about Stiles,” the assassin demanded, ignoring the pang and the way he couldn’t help but let his eyes slide back to the robot that looked like his mother. This was suppose to be his moment of triumph, and it didn’t sit right that the man he had chased all his life was now hallucinating about someone else right now. Someone who had to be so, so special. “Who’s this person you would actually ask for help from?”

He was answered with a vicious snarl and slammed a fist into the marble steps, cracking the stone. “DAMMIT! Just…!” His next words were quiet. A whisper, a prayer, “Help me…”

* * *

 

When you run with the Alpha, it feels like it will never end. But however hard you try, you can’t run forever. Everyone knows that everybody dies. And nobody knows it like the Alpha. Allison and Scott are not Amy and Rory. But the time-traveler will still lose them one way or another.

Scott and Allison will separate and find new partners. Scott with an alien fox-shifter whose species has a penchant with lightning and electricity, and Allison with a human back on 36th century Earth. Later, Allison will die in a battle against Black Matter creatures bent on consuming all the universe and all time. After that, a grieving Scott will refuse to leave his new wife’s planet and time. Guilt will cause the Alpha to never seek him back out.

It was like he was fated to lose everybody.

* * *

 

Scott peeked out where he had buried his face in Allison’s hair. His own heartbeat was pounding in his ears, and he couldn’t figure out if it was him or Allison that was shaking.

Probably him.

“Oh my god…Oh god…,” Scott wheezed, as he and Allison loosened their death grip on each other, “Cutting it a bit close there, don’t you think, Alpha?”

But it wasn’t the Alpha who turned around in the driver’s seat. He and Allison stared blankly their nervous, full-grown son, who stared back at them with a shyness Scott had never seen in Britt D.

“I was able to drive her?” their son-daughter-child questioned hesitantly, before setting off into a ramble that was familiar in an aching way. Scott had been dealing with ramblings all his life. “She showed me how and taught me. The Alpha says I’m a child of the Camaro, the grandchild of the Time Lords’ TARDIS, and…and that I’m the return of the Time Lords. What the _hell_ is he talking about?”

He and Allison exchanged a look before looking back at the-boy-who-wasn’t-yet-Stiles.

“Where is he now?”

* * *

 

He will lose his own husband too, eventually. But oh, what a run it will be.

What an amazing run.

 

* * *

 

“Listen…,” the Alpha choked out, still demanding even as he was fading. “I need to talk to your child.”

Reluctantly, Scott and Allison backed off. They and the assassin circled each other warily as they switched places, but eventually, the other boy found himself kneeling next to the dying wolf. He leaned close to look at this mysterious man who had so casually turned his world upside down again and again and again. Because he wasn’t what he thought he would be at all. Nothing like he was taught either. And there was something in him that _ached_ when he was near this stupidly handsome man that sniped back and forth with him so easily. That same part reveled in his ability to glimpse  the suspects of so many facets the universe would never know about the Alpha. The Alpha who should look at the assassin with accusation, with betrayal, with _something_ besides those sad eyes that edged on kind and gentle when directed at him.

“Find him,” he ordered. “Find Stiles Stilinski. Tell him something for me.”

“What?” the assassin questioned, curious even now, but at least more considerate about it. At the Alpha’s tilted chin, the assassin leaned forward and let the dying man whisper it in his ear. And…it was beautiful. Simple and direct, almost harshly blunt in nature, but touching and so meaningful. This Stiles really was something, to have caused the Alpha to fall so deeply in devotion. Leaning back, the assassin huffed with an amusement without any bite, “Well!” He grinned, though it felt tight and maybe a bit regretful, even to him, “I’m sure he knows.”

How could whoever this ridiculous creeper of a man loved not be aware of such adoration?

And the Alpha…smiled. Just a small quirk of the lips, right before it and the rest of him went completely slack. Strangely numb, he stood up and walked, floated, moved. He just needed to get away from the body he had made. Stopping, he blinked as if knocked out of a trance and looked over at his biological parents.

“Who’s Stiles Stilinski?”

Because he had to know. He had to find whoever this person was. Had to tell them that he had killed the Alpha. That he had killed this person who loved them so much. Possibly as much as they had to love the mysterious, time-traveling wolf-man. It was the Alpha’s last wish. This he could do.

He almost didn’t notice the wordless conversation that passed between the other two within their exchanged look. But slowly, Scott untangled himself from Allison and strode hesitantly towards the robot.

“You’re still working, right?” he questioned. “Cause I’m still a relative. Access files on Stiles Stilinski.”

“Records available.”

“Show him to me,” Scott ordered, determination clear in the set of his jaw. “Show me Stiles Stilinski.”

The assassin stared intently in anticipation the surface of the robot rippled. His jaw slowly dropped and his eyes widened as a familiar but still somewhat new face stared back at him. Different clothes, artfully tousled bedhead, and a different air around him, but it was the same bone structure, same moles, same nose and same brown eyes looking back. He was gasping as his always active mind caught up with the implications; what it all meant. Why they had stared at him with such shock. Why the Alpha had been so adamant about saving him. The Alpha’s words…that’s why the Alpha had told him, those devoted words.

Because, in fact, Stiles didn’t know. Because _he_ didn’t know.

Oh gods. Oh gods what has he done.

“Dylan?” Allison murmured gently. “Britt D? What did he say?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. Look down at his hands, he saw that he was shaking. Distantly, he realized he was gasping through his mouth. It felt like the start of a panic attack, something that usually only happened during the late hours when the memories of his time with the Silence crept up on him. Back before he managed to escape and disappear because of his…

And the assassin froze. Even his shaking had stopped.

Because of his first regeneration. It had healed his fatal wounds and gave him a new face and a new chance of life. The Lucanians had hyperhealing and strength. They were, in general, one of the hardiest species in the galaxy. And the Alpha had spent so much time in the Camaro and had so much exposure with its Time Vortex core. Surely, just maybe…

As soon as the thought entered his mind, his hands started to glow. The golden glow now had a hue of orange to it that was absent before. The shade of it and the way the wisps energetically leapt and twisted upon itself reminded him distantly of foxes leaping and twining among themselves in the woods. Admittedly, he wasn’t quite sure of what he was doing, but it would be okay. He would make this okay.

His parents weren’t so calm.

“What’s happening?” Allison demanded, starting forward even as her husband reluctantly held her back, remembering the dangerous explosion from before. They watched nervously as their child approached the still body. “Dylan, what are you doing?!”

“Just tell me something, Scottie,” the boy who used to be Britt D shakily begged his childhood friend and father. “The Alpha…is he worth it?”

Scott and Allison traded surprised frantic looks before Scott quickly turned back and bobbed his head. “…Yes. Yes! I know, to you, he’s always been worth it. Always. More than anyone or anything,” he admitted.

A shaky laugh escaped the failed assassin’s lips. His whole life he had been trying to kill this one man. Now, he was doing his best to save him. Kneeling down, he cupped that stupidly handsome face between his glowing hands, stroking the cheekbones and eyebrows curiously with his thumb. Inside, the pressure grew, and the gold wisps twisted up around him, creating an orange-gold aurora and a sweet chiming to fill the room.

And at last, the Alpha’s eyes fluttered open, staring up at him dazedly.

“No…Stop it,” the Alpha breathed, sleepily in a way that was almost sweet as his eyes struggled to open. With his red eyes reflecting the gold wisps, so close and so focused on him, the boy could see the wolf’s very soul. And it was beautiful. Wounded, torn, ragged. But still so beautiful. “Stiles....What are you doing?”

Stiles smiled at him, a determined stretch of his lips and amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned in closer and breathed through barely parted lips. “Hello…My Wolf.”

 

* * *

 

“Auto-destruct in two minutes.”

The Alpha shot up from the beam he had been slumped against, stopped halfway by a cuff around his list. Yanking on it, all it did was rattle metal against metal. Whipping around to find the culprit, ice slid down his spine and caught in his throat as he spotted the mysterious not-stranger who had suddenly appeared in the Vault connecting himself to the mainframe.

“No. NO!” he barked. “What the hell are you doing!”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Stiles snorts as he fiddled with the wiring around him. “I’m saving your ass. Which, is pretty par on course...You’ll see.”

Trying to wrench his hand free again, the Alpha glared at the hand cuff suspiciously before growling in realization, “Wha—where— _why do you even have aconite-alloy handcuffs_?!”

The other man just grinned infuriatingly at the indignantly sputtering Lucanian, “Spoilers~”

“This isn’t a joke!” the Alpha growled, slamming against the thick building beam he was attached to. “Stop it right now! This is going to kill you! You know what I am, I have a chance—“

“You don’t have a chance and neither do I!” Stiles snapped back, panic finally showing through the mask of banter, teasing and sarcasm. There was an edge in his voice and a flash in his eyes that made the Alpha freeze. Just a brief, golden flash that was the exact same shade of the Camaro's engine's core essence, a bygone product of the Time Lords of old. Just as suddenly, the man with the tousled, brown bedhead seem to retreat into himself, turning his attention back to reconnecting and disconnecting wires. “I’m timing it for the end of the countdown. There’ll be a blip in the command flow, which should give us a better chance at a clean download.”

“Stiles. _No,_ ” the Alpha begged angrily through gritted teeth.

“Funny thing is?” Stiles chuckled wetly, grief and something like self-deprecation in his voice. “This means you’ve always known how I was going to die. All the time we’ve been together you knew I was coming here. The last time I saw you, the you I know, the-the future you, I mean. You turned up on my window, with a _stupid_ new leather jacket and you had _shaved_. You took me to Nemeton, to see the Great Howling Trees. What a night...The Trees howled. And you curled up around me and held on so tightly. You were crying. You wouldn’t tell me why.” Stiles voice was thick now, and his eyes were glossy as he finally, finally met the Alpha’s eyes. He let out a short, amused huff that edged on a sob. “But I guess you knew it was time. My time. Time to come to the Vault. You even gave me your Triskele. That should have been a clue…“ The Alpha flung himself against the handcuff, desperately reaching for him. For his…for his…“There’s nothing you can do,” Stiles shook his head resignedly.

“Stiles! _Stiles!_ ” the wolf-man snarled. “Let _me_ do this!”

“If you die here, it’ll mean I never met you!” the _infuriating_ man snarled back, and of course he would be the closest thing the Alpha has seen to another Lucanian in centuries. Him with his glowing gold eyes like a Beta, all the spine of an Alpha, the stubbornness that reminded the Alpha’s own family, and a fierceness to rival any wolf.

“Time can be rewritten,” he argued fiercely, red eyes flashing as he continued to pull against the chain.

But Stiles was already shaking his head, even as he fiercely glared back at the Alpha and refused to break eye contact, “Not those times. Not one line, don’t you fucking dare!” The Alpha whined as tears ran down the other’s face. Stiles smiled shakily at his bound wolf-man, just out of reach. But wasn’t that almost always the case. Always trying so hard to save others, his Wolf. But not this time. So he smiled at the other who didn’t yet know him with all the love and comfort and assurance he could give. And hopefully in the future, when his Wolf did come to love him, he wouldn’t grieve so hard even as they held each other. “It’s okay. It’s okay, it’s not over for you. You’ll see me again. You’ve all of that to come. You and me? Time and space.” The once-assassin gave his once-target-now-mate a determined, wobbly smirk as he ordered with all the conviction left in him, “You watch us run.”

His Alpha was shaking, trembling as he stared at Stiles with grief and confusion. “Stiles you know my name,” he choked out. Sounding angry even when he was panicking. “You whispered my name in my ear. There’s only one reason I would tell anyone my name. There’s only one time I could.”

“Ssssshhh,” Stiles hushed him, his voice heavy in both fondness and tears. Slowly, he lowered the headpiece over the hair he had grown out. “Spoilers.”

There was a flash of light. And then it was like all the light in the world had disappeared, like a flickering flame in the wind.

* * *

 

When he woke up, he wasn’t actively aware that he was awake. His first impression was just soft, clean, and white. And not the harsh, sterile white he reminded in some distant, muted memory, but the color of clean cotton and the sun through curtains. He was so, so tired. Everything just felt so distant and just…okay. It was okay. And for once, the voices and urges and chaos in his head were muted and nearly silent. All the voices except a few.

“Hey.”

Stiles opened in his eyes (when did he close them). Hovering over him, he saw Scott and Allison hovering over him, looking down at him with teary, loving smiles; like they couldn’t decide between grief or ecstasy. It took him a couple of tries, his throat was dry and it was such an effort, but he finally managed to push the words out.

“Hey guys,” he croaked. “Where am I?”

“Safe,” Allison replied gently and only choking a little and oh…That was her hand stroking his scalp, through the buzz regeneration had given him. “Apparently, you used all your remaining regenerations in one go. Of all the reckless shit you’ve ever done—.” A hiccupping laugh choked out the last part of her sentence. “For once, I almost wish you had done something that landed you in jail instead.”

Oh shit, he was feeling vaguely guilty now.

“Mom…,” Stiles begged for her to understand with that one word, “I had to try.”

And he had spent a part of his lifetime with her. He knew that was her expression when she did understand but wished she didn’t. “I know.”

“He said…no-one could save him, but he must have known I could. Or at least that it was a possibly,” he muttered, kind of crossed now. “Stupid Martyrwolf. Can’t keep his head out of his own ass.”

“I resent that,” a voice rumbled off to the side. If Stiles turned his head just a little, then he could see that familiar dark silhouette leaning against the windowsill. So out of place but comforting in its own way, because hasn’t his life just always revolved around the Alpha?

“Oh shut up,” Stiles bit back without any real heat. His lips twitched in amusement as he let his head roll back against the pillow, and he was just so tired. Maybe just close his eyes a little longer…

 

* * *

 

“He just needs some rest. He’ll be fine.”

Scott stiffened, his jaw tightened in a rare show of temper. He was the son of a nurse and understood the need to appear calm, but the demeanor rankled at him because _this was his best friend_. His son-daughter-son-missing-child. And they were laying on the bed after summarily _literally_ taking out years of his life. Straightening up, he turned towards the alien nurse and was about to lash out, but Derek interrupted first. At some point while Scott was distracted, he had moved from the window and was now standing next to Stile’s bed. And something about the way the Alpha gazed at the sleeping young man just made Scott go quiet. This was his son. But this was also the Alpha’s mate.

He was so confused about how he was suppose to feel.

“No. He won’t be fine,” the Alpha rebutted, a bit distant with his mind seemingly a galaxy away from them. But wherever he was, he was clearly where Stiles was as he ran a worn knuckle along the side of his shaved head and one high cheekbone.

“He’ll be amazing.”

Pulling something out of his leather jacket, he dropped it on the bedside table before sweeping away from the bed. Curiously, Scott leaned forward to see what it was.

Siting on the table was a very familiar notebook. Though, the last few times he had seen it, the notebook was old and well-worn and loved. Here, it was new. Red, with a black binding and a familiar sigil of three connecting swirls. His head whipped up to watch the Alpha’s disappearing back, and he could have sworn to hear the always-distant man mutter:

“He couldn’t be anything else if he tried.”

**Author's Note:**

> Created because I've seen a couple of Stiles as the Doctor and Derek as a Companion, and I wanted to switched that around.
> 
> Writer urges. *tears at hair*
> 
> Anyway, if anyone noticed, Britt D is a tribute to Dylan O'Brien's actual girlfriend, Britt Robertson. X3


End file.
